A rare day of rain for us here today has opened the door for quiet reflection and writing. I am happy to be able to post early in the week rather than at the 11th hour.
Fr. Richard says,
"that our fear of death is actually our fear of God."
- How have you seen that to be true in your life or the life of others?
There is a curious paradigm for me
in this question. As an Enneagram 6, I live in fear as a default, but my fear
is cluttered up with the trivial concerns of the false self. I ask myself
pointless questions:
- What did I forget to do yesterday?
- Did I repay Joe for the cash he lent for lunch last
week?
- Should I call my mother?
- Is my wife unhappy with me today?
- Did I feed the cat?
Patiently I have to work through the questions as they pop up and use the tools earned over the years to put the trivial in perspective so I can move on with the flow of the day. When you ask me if I am afraid of death, I can honestly say I am not. Big things are easier for me to deal with the minutiae because the true self pops up when the times are most difficult. I am somewhat fearful of heights and it takes work to get over my hesitation to look over the railings and edges that mark the transitions between high places and low. My hesitation I think is more focused on the fear of the sensation of falling then than on what might happen when I land.
The truth is I have some risk
factors that put me at risk even though I am currently in no danger, but I live
with the knowledge I might go out to the mailbox but then suffer a stroke that
will keep me from ever going back into the house again. It happened to my aunt
when she suffered a stroke on her way to the mailbox. My fear is not that I
will die should I have a stroke but that I will not die, and I will have to
endure what she did for months before peace came for her. The other truth is I
suffer from a fatal disease but it is a disease where I can make a daily
decision to live another day in remission from the effects of the
disease.
When death knocked on the door for
an elderly man who lived next door, his wife asked me to come to be with him.
This man was like Zacchaeus in stature but like a giant in his faith. He
attended Mass virtually daily and was greatly loved by his family. As his walk
came to end, he sometimes showed fear and intense emotion. I finally asked him
why he was so afraid of death because he radiated faith so intensely and passionately
at other times. I reminded him he has survived two serious cancer bouts and so
facing death was nothing new to him. He took my hand and looked me in the eye
saying he was not afraid of being dead, he had no fear whatsoever, but he was
afraid of dying badly. I understood him. He did not fear God he was afraid of
himself. This morning, years later I now finally understand his fear. He was
concerned his false self would get in the way of dying well. At that moment,
however, I was able to smile, squeeze his hand, and assure him he was dying a
good death.
This has not been a common
experience, to be more afraid of dying than of death, for those who are not
taking their steps. They live like God is keeping a scorecard every day,
recording missed strokes or lost balls. I have to ask myself if my false self
is getting in the way of having peace and joy given the sure and certain
knowledge of the life after death promised by an ever-merciful God.
- How have you witnessed God allowing and using your
"diversionary tactics [False Self] to get [you] to the full
destination [True Self]"?
I believe we touched on this before.
My seeming unstoppable need for approval and recognition often pushes me to
take steps intended to will the good of another but really begin with
intentions to will the good of myself. The great blessing of my life is God has
permitted a beneficial outcome for those character defects by pushing the power
of the Holy Spirit through the imperfect vessel that is me. Thank God for that
– I take solace God has been able to use brokenness to further his well. I am
only one of the countless examples who have benefitted from his ability to take
Good from the Un-good.